


like real people do

by cecropia



Series: Lapse [3]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Getting Better Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Misunderstandings, connor has manic depressive disorder, cursing, evan remembers an argument they've had, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 14:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecropia/pseuds/cecropia
Summary: “I’m sorry,” He croaks, turning away.Evan caresses his hand with a thumb. “Don’t,” He says softly, “I know.”(Or: Relationships aren't perfect. That doesn't mean they can't be fixed.)
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Series: Lapse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1473803
Comments: 17
Kudos: 202





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> hi y'alllllllllllll,
> 
> A preface:  
Connor's character is so interesting to me. Sometimes I feel like people forget that he has a mental illness, and when you're with someone who has a mental illness, especially someone who has anger issues, fights are bound to happen. I wanted to explore what would happen if Connor was feeling manic and took his feelings out on Evan, because no one ever talks about how relationships can and do heal from fights. Mistakes happen, but that doesn't mean two people who love each other should give up on each other that easily, y'know?
> 
> listen,,,,,, i know i've been writing about them cuddling a lot, but i just. LOVE WRITING CUDDLES OK. LET ME BE. IT'S NOVEMBER.
> 
> General warnings for mentions of suicidal tendencies, swearing, mentions of sex, and mentions of self harm, but that's about it. Let me know if I missed anything. 
> 
> enjoy <3333
> 
> come talk to me! c-e-c-r-o-p-i-a on tumblr :-)  


The first time it had happened, Evan wasn’t sure he was even doing the right thing. 

Okay, scratch that. Evan was _ absolutely one hundred percent sure _ he was _ not _ doing the right thing. 

  
  


It was a really, _ really _ long day for both of them; moving out of the dorms at the end of spring semester freshman year. Evan was in a bad mood because his mom couldn’t come to help him move out since she couldn’t take off work, which meant that his shitty roommate’s parents took it upon themselves to help him too, which pissed off Nate even more than he already was at Evan because of how Evan is as a person, so then he felt like a burden because no matter how many times he insisted that he was _ fine_, he could load everything into his car, they just. Ignored it. And they could’ve been on the road _ hours _ before they actually were. 

Nate didn’t help. He just sat there on his phone, scowling up at Evan who was struggling to carry as many trash bags full of junk as humanly possible and sweating through his t-shirt. 

So Evan wasn’t in the greatest of moods when he showed up at Connor’s doorstep like they had planned the night before, and Connor wasn’t much better. His parents had taken Zoe out for dinner that night, congratulating her on getting accepted to nursing school, and Connor had to move out on his own. Just like Evan. So Evan came in, hugged him, and Connor promptly collapsed onto his couch, grabbed one of the throw pillows and screamed into it until his voice was hoarse. 

It wasn’t really all that surprising when Connor finally lifted his head, eyes bloodshot from tears, and explained what had happened. 

  
  


Ever since Connor and Evan have moved into their new apartment together, Larry has been trying. It hasn’t been the most successful, but. He’s trying, at least. Connor and Evan can both tell that he’s trying. 

Larry was _ not _ trying, however, back then. At all. 

In fact, he was probably doing the opposite. 

  
  


“Like, I fucking _ know_, Zoe’s moving into college soon and both of them are all _ stressed _ or whatever, but I just— wish they would treat me like I wasn’t a goddamn fuck-up all the time. _ Fuck_,” Connor had groaned, mashing his face into the pillow again. The next words came out muffled, but still stabbed Evan right in the heart: “I wish they would just come out and say it, y’know? Tell me that they wish I would’ve successfully fucking killed myself senior year. God, even _ I _ sometimes fucking wish—“ 

Connor cut himself off. 

Evan remembers just. Sitting there for a second. Taking it all in. Processing. 

“Please don’t say that,” Evan managed to whisper miserably, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from the couch. “You don’t— you don’t mean it.”

He couldn’t have meant it, Evan remembers thinking. 

Connor lifted his head from the pillow, shot daggers at Evan from beneath the hair hanging in his face. “You don’t get to tell me how I fucking feel,” Connor had spit at him. It was calm, controlled. That made it all the more terrifying. 

He had never seen Connor like that. 

Connor had never spoken to Evan like that. 

It _ still _ makes a cold chill run down his spine when he thinks about it. 

“Connor,” Evan had said slowly, shaking his head, trying to wrap his brain around this. 

“No, Evan— no. Y’know what? I’m fucking sick of you holding me back, okay? I want. To fucking. _ Die_,” Connor had shouted, pushing himself off the couch. He started pacing around the room and Evan got to his feet. He threw his arms in the air. “There! I said it.”

“Connor, please— _ please— _“

He didn’t know what he was asking for. 

Like an idiot, because he didn’t know any better, he followed Connor, grabbed onto his sleeve. Touch. It was their baseline, their _ thing_. It grounded them. Made them both feel safe, holding each other. 

Connor had recoiled so harshly that Evan felt his entire world splinter and crack into tiny pieces. 

“Just _ stop_,” Connor shouted, and Evan stepped back, hands up. “Fucking stop! Just— just let me fucking— you shouldn’t have showed up under that tree, and you shouldn’t have stayed at my house, you should’ve left, and you shouldn’t have known that I was at that fucking park— you fucked it all _ up_! You fucked everything up!”

Evan remembers stumbling backward, the backs of his knees hitting the couch. 

“You ruined _ everything_. I’ll never fucking forgive you for that, Evan, because— because all I wanted was to fucking die,” Connor said, voice cracking. He wiped harshly at his eyes. “And now here I am!” He laughed bitterly. “My parents fucking hate me and I failed a class because I’m an idiot and I can’t do anything right and I’m miserable and it’s _ all your fault_. Because— because you couldn’t just let me fucking _ die_.”

“You…” Evan trailed off. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and bile was rising in his throat. He was going to throw up. It didn’t feel real, like he was spinning, like he was existing outside of this timeline and in it at the same time. Bouncing between dimensions. 

“Fuck you, Evan,” Connor said coldly, poking a finger at his chest. Something looked… off about him. His eyes were so sad, so expressive, and his lip was quivering even though the rest of his face was twisted with rage. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

And then Connor crossed the room and threw himself onto the couch, back to Evan, grabbing one of the throw pillows and curling around it. Making himself small. 

And Evan just. Stood there. 

He didn’t know how to feel, at first. It was like— it was similar to the stages of grief, but all twisted up and out of order. Echoes of _ I’m miserable and it’s all your fault _ and _ you fucked everything up _ swirled around until he felt dizzy, he felt sick, and then he got angry. Angry because Connor means the world to him, angry because Connor had implied that he didn’t feel the same. Angry because Connor was blaming him simply because he needed someone to blame. 

And then he noticed that Connor’s shoulders were shaking. 

Not just that, though— _ everything _ was shaking. Evan blinked and stepped closer and listened and he could hear tiny gasps, the pillow clutched so hard to Connor’s chest that his knuckles were white. 

And Evan didn’t know what the fuck to do, because. This had never happened before. He thought it was the end. 

Their first real fight. 

They’d only known each other for two years, had been _ with _ each other for one. Evan didn’t know that Connor isn’t good with touch when he’s angry, he didn’t know that Connor sometimes says things he doesn’t mean when he’s manic. 

It doesn’t make it not hurt, but at least it softens the blow. 

Evan remembers just sitting down on Connor’s floor. How the hardwood felt under his fingertips, how it felt like there was a hurricane in his chest. How he just couldn’t process this, because it seemed like it was coming from absolutely nowhere. He sat there with his head in his hands and tried to wake himself up, tried to pinch the inside of his wrist because he was convinced it was a dream. 

He’d had plenty like this, to be fair. 

He considered leaving. Connor obviously didn’t want him there. But then Connor would do something dangerous, and even if Connor didn’t love him anymore, Evan thought, he was hopelessly, endlessly in love with Connor. And he wasn’t going to let Connor hurt himself, even if Connor’s words hurt him in the process. 

So he sat there. Remembered all of the times Connor had marveled over the fact that Evan’s never left him, not even when he was at his worst. And he remembers thinking that even if it was the end, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left Connor like this. If they end it on bad terms. Not after all they’ve been through. 

Eventually Connor lifted his head, turned around and noticed Evan there on the floor. And Evan met his eyes, didn’t look away. Tried to communicate just through a look everything he was feeling, every single thought prodding away at his brain. 

And Connor’s lip quivered. And his face crumpled. 

After everything, after Connor’s profuse apologies and explanations, how he didn’t really mean it, after Evan held him and shushed him until he fell asleep, after the weeks where they didn’t really talk about it, Connor told him. 

Told him all about their high school guidance counselor sitting down and telling Connor that he probably had manic depressive disorder, giving Connor a pamphlet all about irrational anger and recommending that he see a specialist after a particularly bad episode that she intervened in. And how he had communicated that, the idea of therapy, to his mother, who told his father, who had just shut it down completely. 

And how Connor wanted to go, now that he was officially out of his parent’s care. How he wanted to be better. How he didn’t want to feel like this anymore. 

And Connor told him how much it meant to him that Evan had stayed. Every time. Even when Connor was at his worst. Even when Connor told him to leave, Evan saw through it. 

“You _ see _ me,” Connor had sniffled, gripping Evan’s shaking hands like a lifeline. “You see me, and you haven’t left. And I know I’m— a fuck-up, I know I’m really fucking hateful when I’m bad and I say things to intentionally hurt people even though I don’t mean— but— but you don’t… see just that, y’know? You see me. Underneath all the bullshit. You see _ me_.”

  
  


“What are you thinking about?” Connor asks quietly, the bed creaking under his weight. 

Evan clears his throat. “Oh, um— you know. Just thinking.” He glances up at Connor, his drooping eyelids and the bags under his eyes. “You good to be touched?”

Connor nods gently, letting his hair fall in his face. He looks so tired. 

Evan reaches over and laces their fingers together. 

Connor doesn’t say anything at first. But then he sniffs, uses his other hand to wipe at his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” He croaks, turning away. 

Evan caresses his hand with a thumb. “Don’t,” He says softly, “I know.”

It doesn’t happen as often as it used to. Connor’s working hard with his therapist, making leaps and actively trying to be better. Because he wants to be better. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when he comes home fuming, gripping at his hair so tightly that Evan thinks he might pull it out. Times when Connor storms through the house and slams doors. 

But Connor doesn’t take it out on Evan like he did that first time. He hasn’t done it since. He’ll come into the room and sit down on the bed, clutching a pillow, their makeshift signal to each other that they can’t handle human contact, and Evan will sit across the room from him and wait. And he’ll wait for Connor to scream into that pillow until he can’t anymore, or beat the fluff out of it until it’s nothing but a pile of fabric. But he doesn’t leave. 

“I’m thinking about,” Evan starts, sighing, “That time at the end of freshman year. At your house.”

Connor doesn’t say anything for a long time. 

“Why are you still… why didn’t you just, like… I fucking… I was _ awful _ to you. Why did you…?”

The question hangs in the air. Evan tightens his grip on Connor’s hand. 

“Senior year,” Evan says, “You threatened to beat up Jared if he didn’t start appreciating me.”

Connor sighs, frustrated. “Yeah, but—“

“Graduation. I had a panic attack in the bathroom because I spilled punch on my gown and you— you found a fucking stain stick, like, out of nowhere—“

“Zoe didn’t ever lock her locker, I knew she would have—“

“And you got the stain out and you just. _ Held _ me. For the longest time.”

Connor’s silent. 

“Summer after graduation,” Evan continues. “Just— just the entire summer after graduation,” Evan laughs, wiping at his eyes when they start to get misty. “That was… the best summer of my life.”

“Me too,” Connor says softly. 

“Um… freshman year orientation,” Evan says, sniffling. “We, um… we snuck away from that guest speaker we all had to sit through.”

Connor hums a laugh. His thumb swipes over Evan’s hand, soft. “Yeah. We did.”

“And we… we had our own little tour of campus,” Evan says, giggling now. “And you broke into that building—“

“The door was _ unlocked_,” Connor insists, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. 

“Whatever you say. Um— do you remember— halfway through freshman year I was— I was having a really bad time.”

Connor goes quiet. 

“I remember.”

Evan swallows roughly. “I, um— I texted you? Or something? That night. And you knew I wanted to just— I wanted to— I was worried about my safety. It was after Nate yelled at me for having a panic attack.”

“Fucking asshole,” Connor mutters, taking Evan’s hand and pressing a kiss against his knuckles. 

He holds it there for a long moment, then rests their joined hands on his knee again. 

“And you came all the way there, even though—“ Evan has to stop to gather himself, take a deep breath. “Even though your car— your— freshmen weren’t allowed to park on campus, so— you had to walk across campus.”

Connor takes a shaky breath. “It was raining.”

“You showed up at the front of my building like— like some fucking romance novel, and your clothes and hair were all wet, and you— you took me back to your building and we, um. We found an empty lounge and I just.”

Connor shifts on the bed, tucking a leg underneath him and taking both of Evan’s hands into his. 

Evan can’t look at him. 

“I just— completely fucking lost it,” Evan says bitterly, shaking his head. “And I told you… I told you how I had tried to. Um. How I had…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Connor says. 

“I want to,” Evan tells him. “I want to be able to talk about it.”

A pause. “Okay.”

Evan takes another breath in, looks away. “I told you how I’d been… hurting myself. And. And you didn’t… you didn’t, like… demand to see. And you didn’t yell at me. And you didn’t yell at me when you did see them. And. You just. Were so kind?” Evan laughs through his tears, letting them fall freely. “You were so patient with me. You’re— you’re always so patient with me. You fucking sat there with me until— until eight in the morning, because I didn’t want to be alone.”

Evan finally looks at him. Connor’s hair is pushed off of his forehead, and he’s biting his lip and clenching his jaw and there are tears gathering in his eyes. 

“That was when I, like…” Evan trails off. He only breaks eye contact for a moment. “Everyone talks about, like… that one moment. When they _ realized_.”

Connor’s eye twitches. He wipes harshly at it. 

“That was when I… like. When I knew that I didn’t want anyone else. Ever. Like… when we kissed for the first time I told you that you were it. That you were it for me. But… it’s like… it’s like I just keep having those moments, y’know? I just. Keep falling in love with you. It doesn’t _ stop_.”

Connor lets out the tiniest sob, the catching of his breath. “Evan…”

“I’m serious. And— and I fell in love with you again sophomore year when we got the high school group back together and finally went camping again like we’d been planning— and we left the group to go _ exploring _ because— because last time we said we were getting supplies which— which didn’t end up in our favor—“ Evan stops to laugh breathlessly. Connor’s looking at him like he hung the moon. “And we found that clearing where you could see the stars and we just. We just laid there in the grass.”

“It was so cold,” Connor laughs, wiping at his eyes. 

“Yeah, I _ know_, you kept sticking your cold hands under my shirt.”

“That was… one of the best nights of my life,” Connor tells him. 

“Later that year Jared decided— it was warm and Jared decided we should go _ glamping— _“

“Glamping!” Connor recalls, dipping his head down to laugh. “Fuck. That was…”

“Yeah,” Evan breathes, clearing his throat. “We didn’t have to… make an excuse if we wanted to be alone. We just. Had a whole bedroom to ourselves.”

“I remember vividly,” Connor says, taking a deep breath. He uses the back of his sleeve to wipe his nose. “That cabin was… _ fuck _.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Evan says, and Connor bites his lip. “Oh, um— last year. We moved in together. Finally.”

“We had _ so _ much sex.”

Evan huffs a laugh. “What do you mean _ had_?” He jokes, pointing a look at him.

“Alright, _ have_. Same difference.”

“But— but _ anyway— _ I’ve had so many breakdowns since I’ve gotten into my major classes, because it’s just… a lot for me, sometimes. All the time. And you… you’re always there. Even when I push you away. Like— do you remember last October when I was, like— getting bad again? And I… wasn’t nice to you?”

Connor furrows his brow. “Not really.”

“Well— see? Like… I don’t wanna, like, bring up old shit, but— but I kind of yelled at you. Because I was mad at myself. And you don’t even remember it, it was that insignificant to you. So.”

“I… hurt you. Badly.” Connor glances down at their hands. “And I hate myself for it.”

“Connor. It’s _ over_. It’s over, and I… it’s not like… I mean, yeah, okay, you hurt me. You did. The things you said… you can’t take them back. And I know you wish you could. But… you made a shitty mistake. But it’s not like I’m just gonna… forget all of the other stuff just because of one thing that you immediately apologized for and, like, literally never did again. So.”

There’s a second where Connor just looks at him. Considers him. And then—

Connor throws his arms around Evan’s neck, hooks his chin over Evan’s shoulder. Evan’s taken back to that moment, that moment on Connor’s couch when he was sobbing into Evan’s shoulder, telling him that he didn’t mean it, that he would never mean anything like that, he shouldn’t have even said it, and somehow, holding Connor close now, he loves him infinitely more, somehow. 

There’s gotta be a plateau, right? There’s got to be a point where everything evens out, where Connor stops making Evan fall in love with him every single fucking day. There’s _ got _ to be. 

So far, there hasn’t been a plateau. Evan’s starting to think there won’t be one. 

“I love you,” Evan mumbles into Connor’s hair, pressing a kiss to his head even though he can’t quite get to it. “I love you so much, you don’t even know. You have no idea.”

Connor takes in an uneven breath, nuzzles into Evan’s neck. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Evan doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, honestly, so he just holds Connor tighter. 

Everything’s normal, for the most part, after that. Connor’s always super exhausted after this happens, so Evan orders takeout while Connor falls in and out of consciousness on the couch beside him, sprawled out with his head on Evan’s lap. Evan combs through Connor’s hair, and hates himself just a little bit when their food shows up and he has to make Connor move so he can answer the door. They eat mostly in silence, sharing comfortable glances and shy smiles because neither of them have the emotional energy to talk much. 

By the time they finally collapse into bed, they’re both so fucking tired that they could pass out at any given moment. Evan rolls over to face Connor, and Connor gives him a gentle, sleepy smile that reaches his eyes. 

“Touch?” Evan asks, just to be sure. 

Connor nods, opens his arms. 

Evan settles himself under Connor’s chin, cheek pressed to his chest so he can hear the beating of Connor’s heart. 

And just as Evan thinks that Connor’s finally asleep, that he’s finally getting the rest he needs:

“December, sophomore year of high school,” Connor croaks out, clears his throat. Evan can feel him talking, the vibrations of his throat. “Not sure if you remember, but… and I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it, um… no one would partner up with me in bio. And I don’t think anyone, uh— I don’t think you had a partner either, so. Ms. Thrashburn put us together.”

Evan’s fingers curl up where they rest on Connor’s waist. Connor cards his fingers through Evan’s hair. 

“They called her _ Trash_burn,” Evan recalls. 

Connor hums, rests his chin on top of Evan’s head. 

“I wouldn’t talk to you,” Connor laughs, just a little. It’s weak; Evan can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I don’t think I said a single word to you. But you just— kept asking for my opinions. Like they mattered, or something. Like they mattered to you. And. And I didn’t wanna participate, because I didn’t wanna dissect that frog, y’know? _Ew_. And you did it, even though I could totally tell that you didn’t wanna do it either.”

Connor trails off, yawns. Evan presses his lips to Connor’s neck. 

“Even before we really _ knew _ each other, you were… one of few people who didn’t hate me. Or, I guess, you didn’t, like, outwardly hate me. Or call me names.”

“Never hated you,” Evan whispers. 

“The _ point _ is… you’re just. So patient. And I kind of always wanted this with you. And I didn’t talk in lab because I had this weird crush on you, and I thought you still had a crush on my sister, and…” Connor coughs. “I dunno where I’m going with this. Basically, just… thank you, I guess.”

Evan could protest. Tell Connor he doesn’t need to thank him, because he doesn’t. But he thinks that Connor needs this right now, needs to express what Evan means to him and Evan doesn’t want to shut that down. 

“I love you,” Evan tells him instead. 

“Ditto,” Connor yawns again, relaxes against Evan, long arms wrapped around him, holding him close. “Bedtime.”

“Bedtime,” Evan agrees. 


End file.
